


Rock and a Hard Place

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Rock Hard and Cummintonite [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies), RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Polyamory, Restraints, Voyeurism, but not actual bondage, look mark strong is hot okay, there's pretty much no plot here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:24:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Harry runs into a man who looks very much like his husband.Or; the RocknRolla crossover where Archy and Harry have sex while Merlin watches that absolutely nobody asked for.





	Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Rock and a Hard Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13712919) by [WTF_Merlin_Kingsman_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Merlin_Kingsman_2018/pseuds/WTF_Merlin_Kingsman_2018)



> I'm sure that pun has been made before but I suck at titling, okay? I'm not entirely happy with it (Archy has some weird vocal patterns that tripped me up). Although I really have a thing for Archy's ring in that movie (and now Harry does too).
> 
> As usual, not betaed or Brit-picked, so let me know if there are any issues.

Harry is late. He is late and Merlin is going to kill him, but it’s really not his fault this time, his alarm didn’t go off and Merlin was at Kingsman overnight working anyway so it’s not like he could have woken Harry up and anyway he was tired because he got in after midnight last night from his last mission so can you really blame him if he slept in? He’s aware he’s rambling off excuses in his head, but he really can’t be bothered by it, especially because his train of thought is diverted entirely when he accidentally slams headfirst into someone on the pavement and they both go crashing to the ground.

He leaps to his feet, already offering his hand out to help the other person up, “Oh my god, I am so sorry, are you alright?”

The man (because it is a man; broad shoulders, slightly receding hairline, long limbs as he stretches his hand out to take Harry’s) looks up at him, and Harry’s breath catches in his throat. He’s gorgeous. He’s utterly gorgeous, and there are several reasons that Harry doesn’t feel bad for thinking that even though he’s happily married, but the most important one is that this man, this gorgeous man – Harry’s brain really needs to find another adjective – looks _just like_ _Merlin_.

He notices Harry staring and grins, slow and sly, “It’s alright. No harm done.” His voice is low, the pitch hitting Harry in all the right places, but the accent jolts him back into the present because it definitely isn’t Scottish. His accent is closer to Eggsy’s than Merlin’s, British but not posh like Harry’s, rougher, but in a way that suits him, matches that dangerous smile of his. He hasn’t let go of Harry’s hand. “Archy.”

“What?”

“My name,” Archy says.

“Oh,” Harry says eloquently. “Harry Hart.”

Archy shakes his hand and then drops it, “Nice to meet you, Harry Hart.”

“Nice to…meet you too. Sorry, I really need to dash-“

He goes to step around Archy, but the other man catches his arm, “Hey, what’s the rush?”

“I’m late for work.”

“How ‘bout I call you a cab? Make up for making you later.”

Harry shakes his head, “I appreciate the offer, but actually, I work right here.” He waves a hand at the Kingsman window display.

Archy whistles, “You’re a tailor?”

Harry nods. Archy’s grin widens, “Good to know. I’ve been lookin’ to get a new suit recently. Maybe I’ll see you around, then.” He lets go of Harry’s arm and steps back, allowing him to pass. Harry hurries into the shop without so much as a backward glance. He knows it’s rude, but he suddenly has something very pressing he needs to do.

“You’re late,” Merlin tells him when Harry comes barrelling into his office.

“Merlin, you’re not going to believe who I just ran into.”

Merlin swivels to look at him. “Judging by the expression on your face, I take it he was hot.”

“Very.” Harry drops into Merlin’s lap, straddling his husband and sliding a hand down his chest.

“Did you get his number?” Merlin murmurs, clearly more interested in nibbling at Harry’s lower lip, teasing him with little kisses.

“I was a bit too startled to get his number.”

“Really? Why?”

“He looked just like you, darling.”

That gives Merlin pause. He pulls back, cocks his head slightly, “Really?”

“Well,” Harry allows, “if you still had hair and didn’t wear glasses and spoke with an English accent.”

Merlin gives Harry that little shove that tells him to climb off his husband’s lap, and he obeys. Merlin swivels back to his computers, fingers poised over the keyboard, “Where did you meet him?”

“Just outside the shop, actually.”

Merlin pulls up the footage with a few adept keystrokes and plays it back, a thoughtful look on his face. Apparently, Archy had lingered on the pavement, fetching a cigarette from his pocket and watching the door for over a minute after Harry had gone in before he’d pulled out his mobile and made a call, heading out of range of the camera.

“Huh.” Merlin says eventually.

“I told you he looked like you.”

Merlin glances at Harry, studying him. “You want to see him again.” It’s not a question.

Even after all these years, Harry feels that tiny flash of shame when he admits, “Yes, I do.”

“Then you’d best hope he makes that tailoring appointment. Would you like me to run a background check on him?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

***

“Jesus Christ, Harry, you should see some of the stuff he’s involved in.”

“Nothing we’d have to take him out for, I hope.”

They’re curled up in bed together, Merlin tapping away at his clipboard, Harry snuggled up to his side. Merlin’s free hand is stroking through his hair. “Well, there’s evidence of a tiny bit of murder, from what I can see, but mostly it’s legal loopholes and things. And he has no obvious signs of intended world domination, which is always good.”

Harry hums in agreement. The last man he fancied had turned out to be an arms dealer, which just proves that Harry’s taste in men runs solidly towards “could probably kill him and might actually attempt it.” Merlin’s not even really an exception to that rule.

“So you’re okay if I try to see him again?” Harry asks. He needs the clarification, and he’ll probably end up asking a few more times anyway.

Merlin rolls his eyes, but it’s an affectionate gesture, “Harry, we’ve talked about this. It’s not cheating if I say it’s okay.”

“And you say it’s okay?”

“I do.” Merlin sets the clipboard aside and turns off the light, “Come on, now, time for bed. You need to be up early tomorrow.”

***

“Well, hello Harry Hart. Fancy seeing you again.”

Harry turns around and yes, that’s Archy, standing in the middle of Kingsman Tailors, his hands in his pockets and that dangerous smile on his face. Harry kind of wants to kiss it off him. “Hello, Archy,” he says instead. “What can I do for you today?” As if he didn’t know. As if Merlin hadn’t sent Harry an email when Archy made the appointment. As if there hadn’t been a little winky face (courtesy of Merlin, who is more ridiculous than he lets on) drawn next to the request for Harry specifically.

Archy takes a bold step towards him, “I’m here to get fitted for a suit. Told you I needed a new one.”

“You did.” Harry gestures towards fitting room one, “Shall we, then?”

He barely gets in the door before Archy has closed it behind him and is backing Harry up against the mirror, a hand over each of Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s own hands hover awkwardly. He obviously doesn’t want to trip the elevator mechanism behind him, but neither does he want to put them on Archy. That seems a bit forward.

Archy doesn’t seem to care much about being forward. His face is inches from Harry, still grinning, still oh so dangerous. “Tell me if I’m wrong,” he says, his voice even lower and delightfully gravelly, “but I think you might be attracted to me.”

“Do you?” Harry says. “As it so happens, I think you’re right.” He finally puts his hands on Archy’s shoulders and pushes him backwards, “But I don’t mix business with pleasure. So if you’d allow me to do my job, afterwards I’ll give you my number, and you can take me out for drinks.”

“Fair enough.” Archy backs off immediately. It’s a good sign. Harry likes a dominant man, but he likes it even better when said dominant man isn’t pushy about it.

Archy holds perfectly still through the measuring, although he goes rigid as a board when Harry drops to his knees. Harry grins up at him and wraps a hand around his ankle, sliding his hand up the inside of Archy’s leg as he takes the inseam measurement. Archy takes a sharp breath in and tilts his head skyward. His eyes squeeze shut very briefly when Harry accidentally-on-purpose gropes his crotch as he stands back up.

He turns to fetch a business card and scribbles his number on it, turning back and tucking it in Archy’s breast pocket. “All done,” he says. “I look forward to hearing from you again.” And he walks out of the room without a backwards glance. This time, however, it’s entirely deliberate.

***

When Archy meets him at the pub, he’s in a white button-down and a black jacket that makes just the right balance of dressy and casual. They slide into a booth together, and Harry says, “Look, in the interest of being completely upfront with you, there’s something you should know.”

Archy’s grin morphs into an expression of careful concern. “It’s nothing bad, I promise,” Harry reassures him. “I’m married.”

Archy blinks. Then he stands up and turns to walk out.

Harry lunges after him, grabbing him by the elbow, “Wait!”

Archy turns sharply on his heel, and his voice is aggressive when he says, “I’m not a homewrecker.” Harry’s clearly touched a nerve there.

“I’m not suggesting you are.” Harry pleads, “Please, sit back down. Let me explain.”

Slowly, Archy returns to his seat. Harry explains, “My husband and I have been together for thirty years. And we do love each other, but…” Harry doesn’t know how to explain this. Usually, he doesn’t bother. But he’s seen Archy enough times (three times in person now and several more over various video recordings) to get a feel of the man, and he thinks he’d like to see Archy again. That won’t work if he starts this by hiding the fact that he is technically already in a relationship.

Archy doesn’t look impressed. “What, after thirty years of marriage your sex life is shit, is that it? So you’re looking for someone on the side?”

“God no,” Harry says. “Merlin’s a fucking sex god.” He really is, and Harry sees no shame in admitting it. Their relationship…it’s not because they’re sexually incompatible.

“What then, a bit of rough to spice things up?”

Harry snorts, thinking back to what Merlin had told him Eggsy had said in response to the supposed honeypot trial. _Posh girls love a bit of rough_. He supposes it’s gender neutral, but, “That’s not it either.”

Archy frowns, “I don’t…”

Harry sighs, “Merlin and I have an open relationship. He knows I’m here with you right now. That’s our rule. So long as he approves it, I’m allowed to see who I like, and vice versa.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“If you’re so happy with him, in love and having great sex and all that, why are you here talking to me?” His voice is rougher, like Eggsy’s gets when he’s defensive, more of the street coming through.

This is the crux of the issue, the bit Harry always feels guilty about, even though he has no reason to. “It’s not that I’m not happy with Merlin,” he says. “But…the best way I can explain it is that I can desire, physically or emotionally, multiple people at once. He experiences the same type of thing. It doesn’t mean I love Merlin any less, or him me. Does that make sense?” Explaining polyamory at his age is difficult, unless he’s talking to someone like Eggsy, who’s young and fairly well versed in all the terminology.

Archy tilts his head, his brow furrowed as he processes Harry’s explanation. It’s very endearing. Finally, he says, “I want to talk to Merlin.”

Harry blinks, “What?”

“I want to talk to him. It’s not that I don’t believe you,” he adds, “but I’d feel a lot more comfortable with this if I could actually talk to him myself about it.”

“Of course,” Harry agrees. He pulls out his mobile and dials his husband’s number, putting it on speakerphone and resting it in the centre of the table.

“Harry?” Merlin’s voice comes through after a moment. “Everything alright?” There’s a code they have if he’s not; different responses for “Please pick me up” and “turn my glasses feed back on” and some half a dozen other potential situations.

He doesn’t give any of them. Instead, he says, “Archy wanted to speak to you. You’re on speakerphone.”

“Oh. Hello, Archy.”

“Hello.” Archy glances across the table at Harry.

“Is my husband giving you a hard time?” The word choice is clearly calculated, and Harry sees a flicker of…something cross Archy’s face.

“No, he’s fine,” Archy says to Merlin, even as he watches Harry. “He was just explaining your arrangement to me. I thought I’d check in with you.”

“You’re a better man than some of the ones we’ve pursued.  A surprisingly large number of people enjoy shacking up with a married man. But he explained that we’re in an open relationship, correct?”

“Yeah, he did.” Archy sits back in his seat, relaxing for the first time since Harry brought it up.

“Is that all?”

Archy glances up at Harry. He licks his lips, like he’s thinking, and then he says, “If you’re not busy, why don’t you join us?”

Harry blinks in surprise. He can’t say he’s averse to the idea. “Are you busy, darling?” he asks, a subtle way of telling Merlin that he’s okay with the idea, and giving him an out if he has no interest.

“I can be there in twenty minutes.”

By the time Merlin gets there, Harry and Archy are debating football, but they fall silent as he approaches. Merlin slides into Harry’s side of the booth, greeting him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Merlin isn’t one for public displays of affection. Harry doesn’t fail to notice the way Archy’s eyes track the contact, and then flick to Merlin’s face.

He tilts his head, studying the Scotsman. Merlin blinks back at him passively, waiting. “Well,” Archy says eventually, “I see why Harry was interested in me.”

Harry flushes slightly, and Merlin’s lips quirk into a smile. “Well, you are a very handsome man,” he says.

Archy grins back. “I could say the same of you.”

There’s two of them, and they are going to be the death of Harry. It must be his birthday.

Archy folds his hands together on the table and leans forward, “Can I ask a question?” His eyes flick between the two of them, and when they nod in tandem, he asks, “I’m not sure how far Harry’s implied offer extends. I’m _assuming_ , given the way he felt me up last time we met, that sex with him is on the table, but what about you?” He addresses the question to Merlin, who glances at Harry before responding.

“I don’t think I’m interested in having sex with a man who looks like me. There are…implications…”

Archy nods in agreement, “How about watching me fuck your husband? Are you interested in that?”

Harry keeps his face passive, but internally he crows in delight because Archy has no idea what he’s offering. This is, quite frankly, the centrepiece of his and Merlin’s sexual relationship; somehow (or perhaps because of) their relationship as handler and agent had transitioned very neatly into positions of voyeur and exhibitionist in the bedroom, and the fact that _Archy_ is the one to suggest this sends thrills down Harry’s spine, because this is even better than he’d initially hoped for.

Merlin is the one who answers, “I would be _very_ interested in that.”

Archy’s smile is all teeth.

***

Harry isn’t quite sure how they end up in the cab, him in Archy’s lap as Merlin gives the driver their home address, but he can’t bring himself to care because Archy removes Harry’s glasses and hands them off to Merlin and then he’s _kissing_ Harry, licking past his lips and over his teeth, _claiming_ Harry’s mouth. Harry curls a hand around the back of Archy’s neck and responds in kind, grinding down in his lap eagerly.

Archy grabs his hip and hitches him closer, then twists Harry’s arm behind his back, not hard enough that Harry couldn’t break his grip even if he wasn’t fully trained in a dozen different combat technique, but firm enough that Harry shivers at the rough handling. Harry slides his other hand down Archy’s chest, trying to unbutton his shirt, but Archy grabs that hand as well and it joins Harry’s other arm behind his back.

“No touching,” Archy murmurs against his lips, and oh yes, Harry is going to die, this is _lovely_.

He’s reluctant to leave Archy’s lap when the cab comes to a stop, but Archy shoos him out. Merlin pays the man as Harry fumbles with the house key, getting the door open and sliding his shoes off. Archy does the same as Merlin closes the door behind him, and then he pins Harry up against the wall, hips pressing hard enough against him that Harry can feel his erection. He gets both of Harry’s wrists in one hand, forcing them up over his head, and he’s right there, but he’s not kissing Harry, and Harry struggles against his grip. He wants to _cry_ , he wants this so badly.

Archy trails a finger of his free hand down Harry’s cheek, then slides it over his lips. “Shh,” he soothes. “Look at you. So beautiful. So desperate. God, I want to _wreck_ you.”

“So long as you put him back together again,” Merlin says. Harry groans, because his husband’s voice is thick with arousal, and that’s pretty much a Pavlovian response for him. He twists his head to the side, trying to get a look, wanting to see if Merlin is hard from watching Harry with another man, but Archy catches him by the chin and forces Harry to keep looking at him. “Oh,” he breathes in answer to Merlin, “I intend to.” He releases Harry’s face to stroke his fingers over Harry’s lips, and Harry parts them hopefully. Archy laughs and slides three of them into Harry’s mouth, and Harry sucks them in greedily, taking them in so far that the cold metal of Archy’s ring is pressed against his lips. He manages to poke his tongue out enough to lick over it, even with his mouth full as it is, and Archy makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds rather like a moan.

“You should see him do it to a cock,” Merlin says.

Archy twists to look at him, “Do you mind?”

“He’s the one you should be asking permission from, not me.”

Archy looks back at Harry. He pulls his fingers out of Harry’s mouth with a pop, and Harry chases after them until Archy cups his cheek. The wet fingers feel cold against his burning skin and he shivers. “What do you think, Harry?” Archy asks him. “You want to get on your knees and suck my cock?”

Eloquently, Harry moans.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Archy releases his wrists, one strong hand settling on Harry’s shoulder to push him to his knees. He glances back. “Hang on.” He shifts their position slightly, guiding Harry into place, “There.”

It takes Harry a minute to realize that Archy’s positioned them to give Merlin a better view. He glances over and Merlin is leaning casually against the opposite wall, trousers tented, but he’s not touching himself, just watching them with laser focus.

And then it doesn’t matter because he hears the sound of a belt unbuckling and he looks back to Archy, tilting his chin up. Archy grins at him, “Well? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”

Harry reaches up with his hands, but Archy catches them and nudges them behind his back. “I said no touching,” he says. “Don’t make us bind your wrists.”

Temping as that offer is, Harry shakes his head obediently. He leans forwards and gets his teeth around Archy’s zipper, lowering it carefully before latching onto his trousers and doing the same. Archy seems remarkably composed, considering the bulge in his pants, a wet spot forming where his cock is leaking onto the fabric. Harry rubs his cheek against it, then turns his head and mouths at the length. Archy hisses and gets a grip in his hair, tugging lightly. “No more teasing.”

Merlin chuckles, and Harry resists the urge to look towards him. Instead, he tugs Archy’s pants down, and then groans when the man’s cock springs out, because apparently Archy doesn’t just resemble his husband in face and body; his cock is thick and long and Harry almost wants to call this off and ask both men to fuck him together, right now.

He doesn’t, but he tucks that thought away in the back of his mind for later. Instead, he wraps his lips around the head of Archy’s cock, teasing the leaking slit with his tongue. The hand in his hair flexes, and Archy braces himself against the wall with the other. “Fuck.”

Harry hums, pleased with himself, because he hasn’t even pulled out his good tricks yet. Archy shudders and Harry goes for it, relaxing his gag reflex and taking Archy all the way down, forcing the thick cock down his throat until his lips are stretched wide around the base of it and Archy swears several times. Then he pulls off and does it again.

“Fuck, look at you,” Archy gasps. “Like you were fucking made for this. I could fuck your mouth and you’d _beg me_ to come down your throat.”

Harry hums again, this time with Archy’s entire cock in his mouth, and he knows the vibrations shoot up Archy’s spine from the way he stiffens. He swallows around the head, and Archy yanks him off, his hand pulling Harry’s hair so hard it _hurts_ , and says, “I’m going to fuck your mouth until I come, and you’re going to swallow every drop. Then I’m taking you upstairs and pounding you into the fucking mattress. Sound like a plan?”

“ _Please_.”

Archy takes his cock into his hand, pressing it against Harry’s lips, and Harry lets his mouth fall open so Archy can push inside, fucking into him with shallow thrusts. Harry stops swallowing, lets his mouth get sloppy with spit so that it drools out over his lips, and Archy groans and works himself in deeper, gradually lengthening his strokes until he’s shoving nearly all the way down Harry’s throat with each thrust.

Harry’s hands are going numb, he’s gripping them so tight against the desire to touch. Vaguely, he registers in the back of his mind the sound of Merlin groaning, palming himself through his trousers, but it’s mostly just white noise to Harry. Archy’s thrusts start to stutter, and his cock swelling slightly on Harry’s tongue is the only warning he gets before Archy starts to come, pulling out so only the head of his cock is in Harry’s mouth and Harry can swallow every drop.

He suckles Archy’s cock through it, milking out every drop he can, until Archy releases his hair and gently takes Harry’s chin in hand, guiding him off. Harry licks his lips to catch a few stray droplets before they can escape his mouth, and smiles serenely up at Archy, who looks utterly wrecked and yet somehow still in complete control.

“Up you get.” Under other circumstances, the words might sound harsh, but from Archy they’re downright sweet. Harry’s legs are unsteady as he gets to his feet, and for the first time it dawns on him that he’s hard, cock throbbing uncomfortably in his trousers. The knowledge doesn’t make standing any easier, and without prompting Archy holds onto him, a firm hand on Harry’s elbow. He looks over at Merlin, and Harry follows his gaze, his smile widening as he takes in his husband’s appearance. Merlin looks slightly less put-together than Archy does, but when Archy jerks his chin at Merlin he leads the way up the stairs. Archy pauses just long enough to kick his trousers and pants off before following, guiding Harry with the hand on his elbow.

In the bedroom, Merlin has already stripped off his jumper and trousers, leaving him in his button-down (unbuttoned and parted to expose his deliciously tattooed chest, the series of Celtic knots that extends over his shoulders and down his back as well) and his pants. He’s settled in the armchair opposite the bed, and Archy nudges Harry over.

Harry takes the proffered opportunity and sinks into Merlin’s lap, nuzzling into his neck and pressing little kisses over the pulse point. Merlin strokes down his back, and behind him Harry can hear the sounds of Archy stripping out of the rest of his clothes. He glances over his shoulder just in time to see the other man settle on the bed, watching them intently. Silently, Merlin gives Harry that little shove and Harry presses one last kiss, this one to his lips, and then clambers off to join Archy on the bed.

Archy lays him out on his back, taking Harry's wrists and guiding them up above his head again. Harry lets him, and it occurs to him abruptly that even though he's fully clothed and Archy is naked, the other man holds all the power in this situation.

Archy runs the fingers of his free hand down Harry's chest, pressing it against his stomach just a few centimetres above where Harry desperately needs pressure. It's large and warm and solid and Harry bucks up against it and whines.

“Shh,” Archy murmurs. He releases Harry's wrists to flick open the top button of his shirt, stroking over his pulse with the tip of his index finger. “I'm going to take care of you. I promise.”

Harry twists his head to the side, closing his eyes. The sensations are simultaneously too much and not enough and he needs _more_ , needs Archy to touch him properly, not just the little teases. As if he can read Harry’s mind, Archy’s hand moves from Harry’s stomach to his crotch, cupping him gently, stroking his thumb over the bulge in Harry’s trousers. Harry chokes back a sob, trying to thrust against the touch without any leverage, his fingers curling into the pillow to keep them above his head.

“Very good,” Archy whispers. His breath ghosts against Harry’s cheek, and without opening his eyes Harry turns his head, straining up for a kiss, but even as he does so Archy pulls away again. But Harry isn’t too upset, because instead Archy gives him a firm squeeze through his trousers, and the pressure is _wonderful_. “So very good,” Archy coos. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, then.”

 _Finally_. He holds still as Archy works the buttons of his shirt open, releasing the cuffs so he can peel them over Harry’s hands without difficulty. Archy wraps a hand around his throat and Harry’s pulse picks up, but he doesn’t grip, just strokes down the hollow, moving down to his chest. Clever fingers pinch a nipple, and Harry arches up, but Archy’s other hand has moved back to his stomach, pinning him down. Archy ducks, and his fingers are replaced with teeth, worrying at the bud as it hardens under his efforts.

When he moves on, it’s more with his mouth, leaving love bites scattered across Harry’s stomach as he nibbles and sucks at the skin. He gets to Harry’s navel and licks down, but he stops before he reaches the top of Harry’s trousers, instead moving down his legs as Harry gives a whimper of frustration. Archy ignores it, peeling Harry’s socks off one at a time before finally returning to Harry’s trousers, removing them and his pants with little fuss. Then he sits back on his heels.

“Open your eyes, Harry.”

It takes some effort. Truth be told, Harry had forgotten they were closed. He blinks them open slowly, and Archy’s grinning face swims back into view. “Beautiful,” Archy tells him. “Utterly breath-taking.” He twists to look over his shoulder, “You’re one lucky bastard, Merlin.”

Harry strains upright just enough to get a look at his husband. Merlin is palming himself absentmindedly through his pants, and he nods in answer to Archy. “Wait until you actually fuck him.”

Archy looks back down at Harry, who blinks up at him pleadingly. He’s not used to being made to hold still; with Merlin he’s allowed to cling to him, touching as much of his husband as he wants. Not being allowed that connection is torture, amplifying every point of contact. “Alright,” Archy relents, his smile softening. “Give us a kiss, then.”

Harry surges upright, latching onto Archy and kissing him fiercely. Archy curls his fingers into Harry’s hair, tugging just enough to sting but not enough to drag him away. The other hand, the one with the ring (Harry loves that fucking ring, the cold metal warming the more Archy touches him), wraps around Harry’s cock, and Harry gasps into his mouth. Archy takes the opportunity to draw Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth and bite down hard, although not enough to break the skin, and that grin of his is starting to unravel Harry, because nothing seems to shake this man.

He gives Harry a long, slow stroke, and when Harry tries to thrust into his grip the hand in Harry’s hair pulls hard. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “I will tie you down, Harry, don’t think I won’t.”

Harry _wants_. But he’s not going to get into bondage without an actual discussion of safewords and boundaries and he really doesn’t want to stop for that, so instead he obeys Archy’s request, stilling himself. “Good boy,” Archy praises. He glances back at Merlin again, “I’m assuming you keep lube and rubbers in the nightstand?”

Merlin doesn’t respond, but Harry assumes he nods, because Archy shifts, and by nature of their positions that means Harry does too, dipping backwards as Archy finds his quarry and then being pulled upright as he settles back.

“You have to let go now,” Archy tells him.

Harry releases him, and Archy tips him onto his back. “You’re too pretty not to see your face,” Archy tells him, elbowing Harry’s knees apart gently to settle between his legs. “Relax for me, yeah?”

Harry hears the click of the lube’s cap and obeys, taking a deep breath and forcing himself not to clench down on the finger that probes at his rim, sliding in only to the first knuckle before being withdrawn. He shudders out a breath, and Archy repositions himself, settling over Harry, and then the finger is back, pressing deeper, crooking and searching inside him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Archy says. “I’m not sure I’m gonna fit.”

“You’ll fit,” Harry gasps out, the words less cocky than he’d intended because Archy finds his prostate and presses down firmly. He manages, “You sh-should see Merlin’s cock. Trust me, you’ll fit.”

“Mmm, I don’t think he’ll let me see,” Archy says, “but I’ll take your word for it.” He gives Harry a second finger, crooking them both against his prostate, the swell of his ring pressing at Harry’s rim and making him shudder. “Oh, you liked that.”

Harry whines, and Archy spreads the fingers inside him, scissoring them, and Harry thinks he could probably trace the ring’s insignia, rubbing as it is against his skin. The third finger goes quickly, and then they’re suddenly gone, and Harry tenses, propping himself up on his elbow in an attempt to see what’s going on, but Archy pushes him back down again. “Just a moment,” he murmurs, and Harry hears the sound of a condom being opened and a slick sound as Archy rolls it on and lubes up his cock. Harry relaxes back against the bed, and then his knees are being pressed up and the head of Archy’s cock is at his entrance. Harry forces himself not to rut back against it, and he’s rewarded for it by Archy pushing inside in one long stroke, his cock splitting Harry open in the best way.

When he bottoms out, Archy hisses, “You weren’t kidding. How the fuck is he so tight?”

Harry hears the unmistakable slap of skin on skin, and he realizes that Merlin is stroking himself. If that wasn’t enough for Harry to guess, Merlin’s voice is strained when he responds, “I don’t have a clue how a slut like him is so tight, but it’s a fucking gift.”

Archy gives a shallow thrust, and Harry moans and arches back into it. Archy takes that as permission and starts to move, practically folding Harry in half as he starts to pound into him, sharp snapping thrusts that nail his prostate on every stroke, and Harry thinks he’s going to cry because _yes_ , this is what he wanted. Archy’s eyes are half-lidded, and he lets out a groan when Harry clenches down around him.

“Harder,” Harry begs him.

Archy laughs, but he obeys. His hand reaches down and circles Harry’s cock again, gripping tight and pulling in sync with his thrusts and the fact that he’s still so composed, buried balls-deep in Harry’s arse and screwing his brains out, is only making Harry throb harder in his grip. “Come on, Harry,” Archy goads. “Be a good boy and come for me, yeah?”

It’s such a polite request, and Harry has been on edge for what feels like forever, and Archy twists his wrist perfectly, fingers catching on the underside of Harry’s cock just right and he can’t help but come all over Archy’s hand.

Archy groans as Harry clenches around his cock, and he spills inside the condom. Slowly, he pulls out and disposes of it before settling back on the bed next to Harry, who is panting hard. Harry glances over at Merlin. His husband is sporting a large wet spot on the front of his pants, and the familiar satisfied expression tells Harry that Merlin has come too.

Archy nudges Harry, “You made a bit of a mess.” He presses his come-covered fingers to Harry’s lips, and without hesitation Harry sucks them into his mouth one by one, cleaning his come off them. He pays special attention to the ring, bathing it with his tongue along every crevice until Archy laughs and pulls it away.

He stands, and Harry frowns, “Where are you going?”

Archy blinks down at him, then gives him a slow smile, “I’m not usually one for sticking around. That okay?”

Harry nods. It is, really. It’s just a surprise; Harry himself is very tactile in general, but even more so after sex, and for Archy to just leave has Harry off-balance.

Archy picks up on it and looks over at Merlin. Jerking his head towards Harry, he says, “Why don’t you give him a cuddle, then?”

Merlin wordlessly stands, and then sinks down on the bed and gathers Harry up in his arms.

“I’ll let myself out,” Archy tells them. “I had fun. You ever feel like doing this again, you have my number.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Harry says, because he absolutely plans on calling Archy again.

As the man disappears downstairs and they hear the front door open and close, Merlin asks, “Satisfied?”

“For now.”

Merlin laughs, “Good.” He pets Harry’s hair affectionately.

“You know,” Harry observes, “he might look like you, but having sex with him was a vastly different experience.”

“Good, though.”

“Very good.” Harry hums thoughtfully. “You know what they say. Variety is the spice of life.”

***

About a month later, Archy steps out of the Speeler and onto the pavement, fishing his phone out of his pocket as it starts buzzing. He unlocks it, and grins at the series of texts.

_I’m back in town from a business trip. Are you available?_

_Overseas work always gets me riled up for some reason._

_This time, I’ll let you tie me up._

Archy types out a response.

_In that case, I might just stay for a cuddle after. Name the time and place, and I’m all yours._

Within seconds, he has a reply.

_Not just mine. Merlin will definitely want to watch again, especially for this. We’ll met you in half an hour, same bar as before, assuming you aren’t too busy._

Archy laughs.

_I’ll be there._

He slides the phone back in his pocket and heads out.


End file.
